


Slash Drabbles.

by a_pocket_full_of_fancy_words



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series, The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Apocalypse, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Body Worship, Christmas, Crack, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Violence, Embarrassment, Fanart, Fingerfucking, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Gentle Sex, Gift Giving, Guilt, Hand & Finger Kink, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loneliness, Loss, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Kink, Medical Torture, Mirror Universe, Murder, Nightmares, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pon Farr, Spanking, Strapping, Tawse, Torture, Valentine's Day, Violent Sex, mispronunciation, parenting, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:53:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 46
Words: 17,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_pocket_full_of_fancy_words/pseuds/a_pocket_full_of_fancy_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles and longer ficlets that are responses to asks on my tumblr.<br/>Kinks/warnings/pairings in chapter titles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Respect (Mature; spanking) Kirk/McCoy

The second Jocelyn’s car pulls away from the street outside their apartment, Bones grabs Jim and throws him over the end of the bed. 

"I can’t fucking believe you!" He growls, unbuckling his belt and whipping it off so hard that it snags in one of the loops and tears it.

Jim has the cheek to sit back up and stare at him. “What?”

Since Jim is facing him, he shoves him backwards and drags his pants off; Jim looks bewildered. He shouldn’t even need to explain this to a grown man. “You called you mom a bitch in front of my six year old daughter! I don’t care if you have no respect for you own mother, but you can leave my goddamn kid out of it!”

Jim looks incredulous, and it’s true; it doesn’t really merit Leonard’s rage, but hell, he’s been waiting for an excuse to do this since they agreed that the safeword was in place 24/7, and that was three months back. “And what?”

Leonard loops the belt over. “Get in my fucking lap.”

Incredulity turns to realisation and then, probably out of shock, Jim obeys, hampered by the jeans shackling his ankles. He settles over McCoy’s lap from the left side, belly against his thigh. Bones can feel him breathing, quiet but deceptively deep, fast breaths. Panic. For a moment he wants to comfort him, but he’s worked himself into his space now, and he’s a doctor. Jim’s not gonna have a heart attack over a spanking that he has both the right and the means to stop. 

So instead he ramps it up, jerking Jim’s underwear down too hard, pushing his chest off his right knee so that the cadet’s body hangs down between his legs, trapped by them and unable to reach back. He takes less than a second - and less than a fraction of the time he’d like - looking at Jim’s ass, all round and quivering slightly over the top of the waistband of those horrendous unofficial Starfleet boxers, and then reaches down between those thighs to take his pulse under the pretense of stroking the soft inner skin. About 130; Jim’s about to have a panic attack or maybe already is. 

He rests a hand on the small of his back, stroking softly for just a spare moment to let Jim know that he’s safe - and then he brings the belt down on his ass, hard. 

Jim startles from his trance, yelping and trying to get up off McCoy’s lap, but really, it’s helpless. It’s the helplessness that turns McCoy on, spurs him on, and he brings the belt back down in quick succession, landing ten or so hits in less than 30 seconds. 

If he were in this relationship only for the sex, he’d do this more often. More severely, in fact, so that instead of clawing at Bones’ leg and kicking ineffectually like he is now, Jim would obey, because he’d know that to resist would make things worse. 

But since it’s their first time, he just knocks the defensive feet that have come up to protect Jim’s ass out of the way with a well aimed blow across the soles of both, and carries on, a little slower now.

Slow enough to take in Jim’s gasps and cries, and to watch the skin redden between strikes. 

"Bones, please!" Jim begs, but he doesn’t safeword. 

McCoy feels particularly… Cruel. He punctuates his response with a series of severe blows across the same point on both cheeks, fully intending to leave a lasting mark.

"You!" _Smack!_ "Will!" _Smack!_ "Never!" _Smack!_ "Disrespect!" _Smack!_ "Your mother!" _Smack!_ "In front of!" _Smack!_ "Joanna!" _Smack!_ "Again!" _Smack!_

Jim’s pleas fade out to choked noises and sobs. The tears are psychological; Jim’s come to Bones grinning with a broken skull before, a bruised ass is nothing by comparison. “Now Jim,” McCoy releases him from under his leg, bringing him shakily to his feet. “You’re going to bend over the edge of the bed, and you’re going to count.”

Jim looks so pretty, now, face streaked with tears, eyes wide and wild. His nose is running, which Bones will admit, detracts from his beauty, but the overall look is there. He shakes his head vigorously. “I can’t.”

"Yes you can," He says in his you-know-I’d-never-dish-you-something-you-couldn’t-handle voice, and Jim does, goes down face first onto the bed with his legs hanging off of the edge. "One I will not be disrespectful, two I will not be disrespectful. Gonna spank you hard, this time Jim. You ready?"

Jim shakes his head, and Bones straps his ass hard enough that a thick red line appears, overlaying the red-going-purple and making Jim scream. 

McCoy waits patiently as he claws at the sheets, and curls his toes, sobbing uncontrolably against the duvet, until he catches his breath enough to say, “One, I will not be disrespectful.”

"Good boy." Bones murmurs, feeling the heat of the swollen skin before aiming. 

The strap comes down a second time, and Jim doesn’t make a sound, the air knocked from his lungs. He pants his sobs harshly, and finally he counts. “Two… I won’t disrespect my mom.”

Bones forgives him his forgotten lines, but brings the belt down hard again, just below and overlapping the previous one. This time Jim jumps up onto the bed, curling away for just a second. 

With visible effort, he lays back down, resists the urge to get up and run. He’s gone from pretty tears to ugly, desperate crying. He hasn’t safeworded, but he’s close, and since he was a good boy and got back into position, Leo lets the belt drop to the floor. He kneels by the bed and leans over to hug Jim whilst he cries, reaching back to stroke the abused flesh. It’s hot to the touch, burning even, and the last three, hard strokes have given the marks a pleasant, blocky appearance.

He mumbles praise in Jim’s ear, kissing the back of his neck whilst his lover calms down. Jim looks at him tearfully. 

"You okay darlin’?" He kisses Jim’s lips gently, ignoring the taste of tears and snot. 

"Am I gonna have to go to hospital?" Jim asks. 

Bones laughs at him, tapping his ass playfully. “Don’t be so melodramatic. In three days the only proof this ever happened is gonna be the belt loop ripped off my pants.”

When he’s sure that Jim’s okay, he walks him to the corner with his boxers round his ankles. “Stand there for twenty three minutes, hands on the back of your head.” He says, softer than his earlier demands but no less firm. 

Then he sits down at his desk and pretends to work whilst he watches Jim quietly sneak a hand back to rub the sting from those purple, bruised cheeks. He'll train him out of that another time.


	2. Counting (All ages) Spock & McCoy

"What can I do to help?" Spock asks, and McCoy sighs.

In four months, the anomaly will open again, and they can pass back through to their own time. Until then, it’s 1983, and they need to eat - which means Bones has to work night shifts in the goddamn maternity ward, and Spock… Well, Spock has to stay within a hundred yards. Bones doesn’t trust him out of sight for a second. 

It’s 1am, and over the last 11 weeks, the three night nurses and the other the midwives that assist McCoy’s shift have given up on herding Spock into the waiting area.

"What can I do to help?" Spock asks again. He’s oddly childlike, now that his research is out of bounds and there’s nothing to do but wait. 

He has to make something up. “I need you to count all of their fingers and toes and write it on their charts.”

Spock suspects. “I was not aware this was an important procedure.”

"Well, not in our time, but these days it’s a very important diagnostic procedure," He lies. As though a new parent wouldn’t’ve noticed their kid had a different number of toes anyway. "I need you to go around the ward, the premature wards, the weird room where they put all those cots of babies when the kid’s fine but they’re dealing with the mother," An archaic decision, in his opinion, "And write the number of toes on the bottom of the front page of each chart. Tell me if there are any with, you know, like more or less than ten." 

He turns back to his work, a twenty something woman with a husband of a nervous disposition, who for all intents and purposes has another month left before she’s at all likely to go into labour. 

Spock must accept his explanation, though, because he can hear him counting aloud, as though to prove to Leonard that he’s doing his job. 

"One, two…"


	3. Green (Teen; major character death) Spock/McCoy

Operating on Spock was always the easiest. It was the green blood and the smell of copper. Leonard couldn’t associate it with death and gore like he did with red; the only Vulcans he had ever operated on had lived, and he can’t make the connection he logically knows is there.

It’s a bitter irony, then, the day it finally does hit home. The logic of it. 

Finding Spock so close to death and bleeding so fast that all the blood in the world couldn’t have saved him then.

Leonard still tried, until Spock stilled his hands in a week grip.   
He always was uptight about touching other people’s fingers. 

"Please doctor, cease. I wish to die peacefully. There is nothing to be done." 

It went against every bone in his body, but he still froze, squeezing Spock’s blood-slippery fingers in his own. “I’m sorry, Spock. I’m sorry.”

"Illogical. It is not you who has caused my injuries." Spock spoke quietly and succinctly, as though he were trying to get it all in before the end. 

 _But it’s me who’s failed to heal them,_  Leonard didn’t say. “Spock, don’t die.”

"Surely as a doctor, Leonard," Spock never called him by name. "You understand the ineffectiveness of verbal commands on lacerations." 

Leonard was already crying, the salt tang mixing with copper in the air. He stroked Spock’s fingers, sticky and clotting. There were too many wounds to attempt to pressurize, all catastrophic, all bone deep. “I love you. We all love you.”

He thought for a moment that Spock would balk from it, but just like always, he pulled through exactly when he was needed, always just human enough. “Then please know that I have held all of you very dearly, also. I am grateful… That I am not alone… You are here…”

"Yes, yes Spock, I’m here!" He pleaded, leaning down awkwardly to kiss the Vulcan on the mouth. He tasted blood, but Spock kissed back, gentler than McCoy’s desperation could truly allow for, until his lips went slack. Bones  lent back, fingers interlaced in a bone crushing grip. "No! NO! You… No Spock! Spock…! You can’t! Don’t leave me alone here! Spock! You green-blooded son of a bitch! You fucking bastard! Please, Spock, please don’t die! Please…"

He was hysterical and furious and he was going to break, split open like Spock’s body and ruin all that emerald blood with red. 

But he didn’t. He just shouted and raged and sobbed and screamed, rocking Spock’s limp body for hours, until his dead limbs seized, until his skin mottled and the shuttle finally found them - two days too late.

Now the colour green just makes him feel sick.


	4. Waiting (Teen, major character death) McSpirk

Spock coped quite well after Jim died. 

He and Leonard stuck together. Stayed close and kept what was left of him between them. 

It was only after their Bones had died that he took to illogical habits; waiting for Leonard to come home before going to sleep each night, only to pass out from exhaustion every other day, alone on their couch. His couch. 

He should have known not to become so dependent when the chances were, he’d outlive even his healer. He lost them both.


	5. Love is not dignified (All ages fluff) Kirk/McCoy

Jim is too dignified a lover for McCoy. It doesn’t seem like it, but really all he wants is goo and fluff, and because it’s Jim’s first real relationship and everything is new, Jim’s all  _serious_  about them still. 

It’ll fade out with time, but for now, Bones just sneaks up on him when he’s asleep and kisses all over his face and the tip of his nose and snuggles him and blows raspberries on his tummy until Jim almost wakes up. 

If Jim found out he’d be horrified, but in his sleep he just smiles and hums and enjoys it. 


	6. Spock Nests (All ages, fluff) Kirk & Spock

The first time Jim sees it is on an away mission in which they are required to share a room, but fortunately not a bed.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jim wants to know, as Spock drags a blanket in a rough circle that’s unmaking his bed rather than making it.

“I am preparing to sleep.” Spock says calmly, putting his head down onto the mess of quilts, blankets and pillows he has created, and burrowing face first into it.

Jim wants with every fibre of his being to make another comment, but seeing Spock using his head and all four limbs to rearrange the minor catastrophe so that there is an indent for him to occupy is just too cute, so he swallows it down in favor of prolonging this experience. “…Sleep well, Spock.”

Spock evidently finds the most comfortable position and slumps into the space he has created. The entirety of one side of him, curled awkwardly, surrounded by bedclothes instead of under them, is exposed, but his face is buried out of sight. “Good night, Captain.”


	7. Pinace (All ages) Spock & Kirk

Most of the English Spock knows he learned at school and from his parents, but the majority of his education was in Vulcan. There are some words that he has only learned from books, research papers and other written sources. Since he doesn’t seem to be approachable about anything even vaguely indecent, some of those words he doesn’t learn until quite late on.

Such as on an away mission, when inspecting a particularly interesting specimen of local fauna.

"Fascinating. I believe this creature performs all bodily functions through this one orifice, which acts as mouth, rectum, input for sensory glands, cloaca and pinace."

"What the hell is a pinace?" Jim asks, looking at the odd mollusk-like organism with distaste.

Surely Jim knows what that is. He makes good use of his own, for certain. 

But Spock has paused a moment too long; he has left time for Jim to think. This is a mistake.

"Oh my God, did you just mispronounce penis?" He asks, incredulous.

"No," Spock lies for the first time in his life, picking up his pack disdainfully. "It is a biological term, that you as Captain have no need to understand. I must continue my work, please cease asking questions until I am quite complete."

And with that, he walks away from Kirk’s smug grin to concentrate on the first asexual lifeform he can find. 

And if, a year later, Jim plays that word in a game of Scrabble with Uhura and Doctor McCoy, and Spock is forced to back it up to save face, well, sometimes one must make sacrifices.


	8. No Harm in That (Teen - medical kink) Kirk/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sexual Harassment

Bones has a medical kink. He doesn’t mean for Jim to be the subject of it, he really doesn’t. 

But hey, what’s the harm if he gives Jim an extra hypo or two? There’s no harm in topping up his Vitamin D levels every now and then. And really, there’s no harm in scheduling the Captain to have an extra physical this year, he needs to be in top shape. No one will know.

Come to think of it, manual prostate exams are far more reliable. He likes tests you can do with his hands, you know? Doesn’t like to rely too much on technology. It’s important to allow your doctor to see you naked when necessary. It is also important for your doctor to be out of your line of sight from the waist down.


	9. Sad Christmas (All ages - Fluff) Spock/McCoy

Christmas seemed like the least likely candidate to bring them closer. A lot of unlikely things happen in space.

Such as McCoy lying on Spock’s bed with Spock spooning up behind him, whilst the rest of the ship buzzed with a variety of Terran winter solstice celebrations. 

Bones missed Joanna, badly. Whilst he was at the Academy, this had been the one day a year where he and Joce had agreed to exist in the same place for the sake of Jo, and he’d not been apart from his little girl on Christmas day since she was born, all pink wrinkly skin and milky scent. Safe and home and loved. 

Spock was mourning something, too. Spock was mourning a lot of things. 

The Vulcan shifted to bring his arm across McCoy’s chest, squeezing him closer. Technically, it wasn’t the first time they’d been this close - what happens on away missions stays on away missions - but there was a line for this sort of thing, and for them it was drawn around the Enterprise in a 100km radius.

Leonard twisted and turned in the grip, wiggling until they were face to face. They were very close. “Ahem,” He cleared his throat, and Spock jerked his head back a few inches to get out of the air flow. “Uh, sorry. So… What brings you here?”

Spock, despite his compromised position, looks as calm and collected as ever. “This is in fact, my bed. I frequently occupy this area.”

Bones scowled. Should’a known better than to expect a straight answer from the hobgoblin. “That ain’t what I was askin’ and you know it.”

Spock went quiet, craning his neck so he could face the ceiling instead of the Doctor. Eventually McCoy was forced to accept this as a concession in itself, and sighed. He inched forward until his face was against Spock’s upturned one, kissing the cool skin of his cheek. 

Then he made himself comfortable and settled in for the long haul, not intending to move from Spock’s bed until Jim noticed one or both of them were missing.


	10. Valentine (All ages) Spock/everyone by accident

Having been fairly isolated at the Academy, Spock misunderstands the concept of Valentine’s Day and buys the whole bridge crew gifts for their first 14th of February spent in space. 

Too embarrassed to admit his mistake, he is forced to repeat this every single year. 

Somehow this manages to embarrass everyone else too, so that for the entirety of the five year mission, everyone lavishes him with steadily more extravagant presents, and he has to respond in kind to keep up the pretense.

After the mission ends they keep sending their presents because they’ve all gotten used to it and Valentine’s feels wrong without giving or receiving something from Spock.

Valentine’s becomes a Christmas-like expense that must be calculated into Spock’s budget.


	11. I do. (All ages - proposal) Kirk/McCoy

Whilst Jim and Bones are dating in the academy, they compete to embarrass each other worse every time. 

It’ll start with some kind of joke on Bones’ part - he’ll tell the library in his outdoors voice that Jim has diarrhea or something, to get him to stop talking about personal topics in public places.

And then Jim will get his own back by having a naked picture of Bones as the background on his PADD.

And it will escalate, until one day Bones drags Jim into McDonalds - should be a warning sign in itself - and proposes to him over replicated chicken nuggets and fries.

And all around them people don’t know whether to be appalled or clap, so Jim just takes it in his stride and accepts, because seriously, that fucker has won at this point.  

But he won’t wear that stupid plastic ring.


	12. Burn (All ages, character death) Kirk/Spock/McCoy

For a decade after that final kiss, Jim’s lips on Spock’s neck, it lingers like a brand. 

He feels it after a hundred new kisses have been smoothed onto the same spot, a thousand showers washed it away. Holding onto it as though he could reconstruct Jim around it. 

He’d known it would be their last, and so did Jim. Couldn’t bare for it to be on the lips. Only he and Jim, and Leonard watching, counting out the seconds. 

Afterwards, once he’d called the time of death - 1504 - Leonard had treated that spot, that last kiss, like a burn. Delicate surgeons hands ghosting over the skin and then digging great gouges out of Spock’s shoulder, trying to claw Jim back from the land of no return.

They try to heal it, to close the gap that has appeared between them by moving closer together, and closer still when it fails to yield the comfort they seek. They’re both old. It’s only a matter of time. 

But you cannot kiss a kiss better.

It is an open wound that no doctor can ever treat. Not even Leonard McCoy.

And he misses Jim, terribly.


	13. Fingers - (explicit - fingerkink) Spock/McCoy

Some evenings Spock uses nothing  _but_  his fingers. 

Leonard couldn’t tell you if it's a dominance thing for Spock, but it is for him, and it was  _hot_. 

Legs up on Spock’s shoulders, thighs quivering to maintain the position with so much lube spilling down his ass crack it was leaving weird, grease-like translucent patches where it dripped onto the sheets.

Those long, probing fingers, slick to the wrist, pressing on his perineum and around his hole before pushing inside. Spock doesn’t _do_ one finger, and Leonard doesn’t really need it, likes the immediate fullness that two provides, the stretch of three, four. 

Sometimes Spock kinks his fingers before he puts them in, hooks them over so that he’s pressing into Leonard’s hole with his knuckles instead, forcing him to engulf the extra thickness, almost too much straight away. 

Spock doesn’t kiss him, just nuzzles into his neck to hear his cries, “Spock! Please! Please…”

Spock loves it best when Bones doesn’t know what he’s crying for. And he never disappoints, stretching him until all four fingers are inside and pushing him open until he’s sunk them in over the last knuckle, stroking his prostate like he gets paid for it, sliding around in the tight wet, short nails just grazing over sensitive flesh. He rubs it, kneads it against his thumb on the outside, until Leonard can’t see, until the only reason his legs can hold the position is that he simply can’t move anything at all, and his cock twitches itself to an orgasm that cracks the joints in Spock’s hand. 

He never gets to look at Spock’s face as he comes on those nights, always misses it with his eyes screwed shut or his head buried in his shoulder, right up against his own knee, but it always happens, Spock comes against his ass and the bed, the proof sticky and cool as they lie there, panting.

Leonard doesn’t complain.


	14. Cairn (All ages- character death) mckirk

It’s an age-old way of burying someone, Bones muses, to build a simple cairn over the body, a mound of rocks that slowly makes its way up to cover a long loved face, those hands with so much history, that skin with so many scars.

He had always thought that the only possible monument to Jim would be vast and golden, wheeling through space at 300 million miles an hour.  

But now it seems fitting, to give Jim back to the wind and the rock and the smell of the ocean, the sound of waves. A lifetime spent in an artificial vessel, and now, only now, is he giving Jim back to the world where he belongs. 

Spock says it best, later, when they are both back at Starfleet Command, after a debriefing that he will never remember.

_"It is bittersweet, my dear doctor, but it is how it should be."_

Long after Jim’s body must be reduced to bone, they visit his pile of rocks and tell him their aging secrets. When Leonard goes, he wants to go in that ocean, the vast grey one that Jim overlooks, only ashes and memories. And it will be bittersweet, but that is how it should be.


	15. Bones (All ages - slight medkink, body worship) McKirk

It’s a misnomer that Bones’ nickname refers to the fallout from his marriage; he earned that nickname six months later with Jim sprawled, fucked out in his bed, whispering Latin over his tibia, naming knuckles as he kissed them, up, phalanges, metacarpi, carpi, one long lick up  between the radius and ulna, sucking the antecubital fossa, leaving love bites on top of his humerus, over his scapula and clavicle, the manubrium of his sternum, up, up his throat to the soft anterior of the digastic and kissing the strong bone of his mentum, finally reaching his favourite place. 

“ _Labia oris_ ,” He murmurs, lips hovering above them, so close he can feel hot breaths panting out of Jim. 

" _Osculum_ ," Jim pleads. 

"That’s not even a verb!" Leonard scoffs, but it’s too late, because he’s already kissed him.


	16. Fuck (teen for swearing only) - Joanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a headcanon that took on a drabble-like consistency and not a real ficlet.

I personally like to believe that since neither Jocelyn nor Bones can keep a lid on it, their daughter swears like a trooper. 

And up she comes onto the bridge to see it on shore leave, their first after setting back out on their test mission after the Narada incident at the tender age of 8. 

She wanders around all sweet and shy and sidles up to Spock’s scanner. 

"Hello Mr Spock."

"Hello Miss McCoy. Is there anything I can help you with?" He asks. 

"Yes!" She smiles happily up at him, and then gestures to his console. "This. What the fuck is it?"

The whole bridge looks at her and then at Spock, and finally to McCoy.

"Joanna! What did I tell you?" Bones crosses his arms and stamps his foot.

"You said to "mind your fucking language"."

"Damn right I did." He growls at her, sheepish and then beats an awkward retreat.


	17. The Best Kind of Enemy (all ages) Spock/McCoy

Spock wonders for a long time why he puts up with long arguments and bickering with McCoy, and indeed why the doctor does the same. It would be easier to just avoid each other and spare them both the fallout.

It is only when they are old and their second five year mission is about to end and they go their separate ways that it dawns on him that they are both desperately lonely, and suddenly he cannot bear for it to end. 

Instead of alienating him, McCoy’s sour attitude relaxes him into saying exactly what he means and, to borrow a phrase, dammit,  _they have fun_. Spock doesn’t want to live without that asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I do read your comments and I do like getting them! I've not got a lot of free time to reply atm and I have like, loads backed up so it might take me a while to get back to them, but thank you for taking the time to write one at all!  
> -Ali


	18. Bowerbird (All ages-Pon farr) Spock/McCoy

When he’s getting close to his  _Pon farr_ , Spock begins to get agitated and do strange things without really meaning to.

He prowls around their quarters, touching and sometimes smelling things to make sure they’re all theirs, brings Bones endless presents from food to clothes to small mammal-like creatures with big eyes smuggled aboard from their last exploratory mission (surrogate children, Leonard suspects, and resolves only to broach the subject of returning them to their natural environment  _after_ the inevitable blood fever), all to ensure that he will have a willing mate. 

He rearranges all their stuff again and again, moves all the furniture, puts the bed up into the corner and their wardrobes up against it to section it off and then piles all the things he’s bought for McCoy up onto it, neatly organised into separate piles that his kidnapped animals insist on destroying in a bowerbirdesque display.

Leonard’s pretty sure that today will be the day when he wakes up surrounded by oranges and socks with a series of dark circles up his inner thigh where someone has sucked on the skin. He sees Spock across the room, watching him and fidgeting anxiously, as though he’s been there for hours and there’s nothing more for him to reorganise or move or adopt.

"Come ‘ere darlin’," McCoy slurs, voice gruff with sleep. "You know I’m gonna be here in the mornin’, you don’t have to try and win me again."

Spock doesn’t need another invitation, his burning hot body sliding in between Leonard and a healthy looking lettuce, fingers all over him, not yet urgent, just checking that he’s all there, warm breaths against his neck as Spock inhales his scent.

As he dozes off again, cocooned in too much body heat, Bones feels Spock lick a thick stripe up his cheek and smiles at the knowledge that he can bring up all these illogical things for the next seven years


	19. Immortal (teen - referenced suicide) Kirk/McCoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide; major character death.

She finds a picture of a man she doesn’t know amongst her father’s things. A distant relative, maybe; an old fashioned photograph of a man with electric blue eyes and a wry grin. His cheek is bruised and his lip is split, but he looks happy, like he doesn’t care.

She doesn’t know, of course, how could she, the way that Leonard,  _Bones_  used to hate that photo. The way that, when he was younger, those bruises meant James T. Kirk against the world and having his ass handed to him, beaten up and smashed against the ground and  _worthless_. 

She doesn’t know who he is or how they lost him, or that when it had resurfaced a year later, it meant something entirely different. It was Jim, carefree and smiling and grabbing life by the balls, even when it spat on him from above. Jim Kirk shining in his glory years, their second year at the Academy, and the first time in a long time that they had both been happy.

She doesn’t know the men who loved him, the men he broke. The Doctor and his successor who reluctantly survived him and not for long. She barely remembers her father. All she has of him is this box of his things and a note saying how he’s sorry, how he had to be with  _him_. 

She doesn’t know who he is. Doesn’t know about the legend that Jim Kirk was, doesn’t know it because it faded from popular knowledge like dead celebrities so often do, when their work isn’t an album or a painting or a holo, slid out of mind and memory by Starfleet, eager to make people forget about the man they let down, about the gods they allowed to fall. 

Joanna doesn’t know. She puts it back in the box, and the box in the attic, and never sees Jim Kirk’s face again.


	20. Aftermath (Mature - desperate sex) Kirk/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rough, non-explicit sex.  
> Catharsis

They make love on the Friday and on the Saturday Jim fucks him into the dirt. 

Slams him on his back in the dust outside the shuttle so hard his coccyx grates against the rock beneath and fucks the air out of him, till he’s panting and sweating and writing, till grit and sand is making its way into places it shouldn’t be and making the friction  _unbearable_ , till he’s screaming in agony and clawing and biting and kicking, but some strange animal part of him won’t let it stop, holds Jim on, bears down on his dick like it isn’t tearing him open. 

Makes them rut till they’re both crying and there’s blood in the come mixing in with dessert sand.

It’s okay, because the blood is proof that Jim is alive, and Bones needs that, clings to him, crying in pain but mostly in the knowledge that he nearly wasn’t.

"Don’t you ever do that to me again!" He shouts, even though Jim’s face is centimetres from his. "Don’t you ever risk anything like that!"

Jim sobs into the sweating nape of his neck, paralysed by McCoy’s anger and his fear.

They lie there in that battered landscape the only place they could find as ruined and desperate as themselves. 

Jim will always find them water; it’s what he does.


	21. Mirror!Bones (Mature - torture) McKirk; Mirror McKirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture; major character death

In some universes his profession earned him his nickname; in others it was lent to him by his divorce.

Here it is the snap of a tibia, as he fells the great Jim Kirk to the ground. 

Jim doesn’t cry out, doesn’t grimace, just like he knew he wouldn’t. Doesn’t beg for mercy or try to buy him out of it.  
Instead, he catches the tears leaving red tracks down McCoy’s face and grins that sick grin, made worse by the pink tint to his alabaster teeth.

Even now, James T. Kirk is too dangerous to be allowed to continue to live. 

He shoves the pointed tips of the bone cutter down hard, into the flesh of Jim’s upper arm, and forces its jaws shut. Jim flinches this time, his smile gone and his face serious. He holds McCoy’s gaze with pupils blown wide in shock. 

Leonard lets the bone cutter drop, and it almost doesn’t, stuck to his fingers with too much blood.

He’s crying now, really crying, holding Jim’s shoulders as he bleeds out.

"I’m sorry Jim. I’m really sorry." Jim’s skin is cold, clammy like ice even though McCoy  _knows_  his blood runs hot. 

He wants to turn away, to hide his face, but to look away from Jim’s now would be sacrilege, of that he is certain.

Jim manages one last smile, the only smile Leonard has ever seen that was for someone else, to make  _him_  feel better, not for Jim’s personal benefit, and it breaks him. The glint of those teeth, ruby red now. “S’okay… You really did it, Bones. Never… Never thought… You had it in you… Bones.”

Jim’s throat muscles give way first, and his last breath is a death rattle. 

"No!" Bones clings to his shoulders as though there is some last hope, as though this time will be like every other time, and Jim, his captain, will swagger through the door at the last second and tell him that this was a dummy, a test, that it wasn’t true. He never thought he had it in him, either, and he wishes to god that he hadn’t. 

Spock is watching him from his peripheral vision. “You performed well.” Is all he says. Leonard supposes this is a compliment. He has nothing to say in response. All of the words he has left are for Jim and all of them are wasted. 

_Bones._

_______________________________________________

Every night they grip him, dreams where they are terrible people who do terrible things. A mission goes subtly differently; in the day time Jim saves an ensign; in the night, he laughs as she dies.  _You think you can use that whore as collateral against me?!_

Bones wakes in the night, and for some reason, whatever reason, he creeps down the corridor to Jim’s. 

It opens as soon as he announces himself, and he comes to a shaky halt in Jim’s living area. 

"What is it Bones?" Jim’s voice is thick with sleep and concern. "Why’re you crying?"

Crying. Is he crying? Of course he is. “I had that dream again. ‘Bout that bad place.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “ _I killed you_.”

They don’t often hug, aren’t lovers yet and won’t be for near a decade. But just this once. They sit on Jim’s couch, and Leonard wets the neck of his undershirt with snot and tears. 

"Shhh, Bones," Jim murmurs to him, voice soft and soothing. "They’re only dreams. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here. It’s alright."

Leonard McCoy mourns another Jim on his Jim’s couch. 

Ten years later, the dreams end with an execution, the other him and the other Spock, at the end of a four year war.

But he never forgets that Jim, that Bones, or the iron resolution of that Spock. All of it is wrong, and all of it is true. That third Spock, the old one, he looks him in the eyes and he  _knows_. 

Bones.


	22. Porn (explicit because porn) Kirk/Spock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is what it says it is.  
> Is it realistic?  
> No.  
> Is it in character?  
> Barely.  
> But is it wank fodder?  
> Let's hope so.

"This is how you should look," Jim pants, already hard again in what Spock deems a human excess, but one which he will indulge. "All fucked and loved with the bruises to prove it."

Dirty talk, Jim calls it. An acquired taste, Sulu had explained, but Spock had acquired it from nowhere. 

"Look at your cock," Jim's breath is hot against his ear; his words are quiet. "All thick and slick from your own cum, it fits so well inside of me, fills me up."

Jim's hand moves lazily over the penis in question, palming it up against Spock's belly. 

"Your balls are so round and tight, I bet they could fill me till I was dripping for days Spock, I know you can cum again." Jim's other hand picks up his wrist and guides it to his mouth. "Suck your fingers for me, Spock. Suck them like you're sucking my dick."

He opens his mouth and his first two fingers slip in. It's a fetish - or rather, a Vulcan characteristic - that he would never have shared out of embarrassment, but it took Jim only one round of sex to figure it out.

He sucks, wet and sloppy, tonguing between his fingers and scraping his teeth over the pads. 

When they're wet enough, Jim pulls them from his lips and pushes the hand down between Spock's own legs. 

"Finger yourself for me, Spock, split yourself open."

Spock can only groan at the sensation of his anus stretching over the fingers, at the hunger in Jim's gaze as he watches his hole intently. Jim pushes his own, dryer finger between Spock's, stretching him suddenly and pushing his fingers out against his walls. 

"You're gonna keep those fingers in there whilst I suck your dick." Jim tells him, and he nods. 

Jim's tongue slides, rough and wet around his head, and Spock's sphincter constricts suddenly around the digits. 

He can barely move them, Jim does most of the work as he swallows him down, working in a second finger so that Spock is stretched to over-full and pushing until he can stroke his prostate. 

Spock cries out, the kind of sound he loves hanging on Jim's lips, but that sweet mouth is so busy and he can't bear for this to stop, even to hear Jim's voice. 

He whimpers as it becomes too much, the constant spasming of his hole making his fingers slide against smooth insides and Jim's rough pads. 

Spock finds himself begging, for the first time in his life. He cannot take it, needs to spill down Jim's throat; paradoxically, it is so good that he simultaneously tries to push himself down and scramble away. "Please...! Jim!"

Jim hums his satisfaction around the cock in his mouth and his fingers dance against that one sweet spot. 

Spock kicks back against the bed as his balls tighten and his fingers curl involuntarily as his whole body twitches around them, feels Jim sucking ejaculate from his tip, cheeks hollow, tongue sliding into slit.

He pulls his fingers out of himself as Jim gives his penis one last kiss and pulls away.

"You ready?" Jim says as he sits back on his haunches, his own cock hard and leaking. He sits between Spock's spread, shaking thighs, ready for another round. 

Spock can barely breathe, even in the oxygen rich air of the Enterprise, but he nods, consciously willing the blood to stay inside his penis despite even the idea of more stimulation now being terrifying.

It's too much, too soon, being stretched again around Jim's erection. He's barely wet enough to take it and the friction against his prostate is almost unbearable; he arches and cries out, again, tears springing to his eyes. 

Jim sets a fast pace, battering him inside and out, and Spock's eyes roll back into his head. He can feel himself spasming as a dry orgasm is fucked out of him, gasping and moaning in time with Jim's hips.

Then he feels Jim's mouth on the fingers he'd had inside himself, sucking and licking and  _filthy_ , and there is nothing Spock can do but to lie there and shake and tremble and scream.  _Pleasepleaseplease!_ What is he begging for? He's already coming, the head of his cock is already glistening with a few pathetic beads of semen.  _PleasepleasepleaseJimplease!_

Jim burns him with a rush of human-hot cum of his own, his moans rough and broken, and carries on thrusting until he collapses on top of him. 

Spock whimpers one last time before forcing himself to find composure; it is not an easy task with the feel of Jim's penis softening inside of him. 


	23. Flirt (Teen - bad flirting) Kirk/McCoy

Leonard McCoy is a terrible flirt. Not terrible in that he flirts a lot, but terrible in that he is exceptionally, horrendously bad at it.

 

They’re at the Academy bar and they’re meant to be on the pull. 

It was Jim’s idea, but only because he wants to see if he can make him jealous, and okay, a little bit to check if Bones is straight or not, because this could all go downhill very quickly.

Jim slides into a seat next to another cadet, across from where Bones is standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do. 

"Hey," he says to her. "Saw you in Medicine and Interstellar Politics. Can I get you a drink?"

She smiles at him, like he’s a little weird, but accepts, and he gets her one. Just as the glass clinks onto the bar, he hears that Southern drawl over his shoulder. 

"Are you exertin’ a gravitational pull? Cos I’m fallin’ for you."  Jim looks around to see a small exodus of women leaving Bones’ vicinity and laughs, getting the finger for his troubles. 

"That your doctor friend?" The receiver of his drinks asks. "He’s not gonna get any if he goes up to women in a bar and tells them they have the mass of like, a small moon."

Jim laughs, and they make small talk whilst McCoy defiantly refuses to come over to them, as though he still has a chance in hell. 

Eventually an Andorian man comes to the bar next to him to order a drink, and from what Jim can hear, there seems to be a disagreement about what he is then served. 

The matter of drinks settled, he sees Bones sidle up to the stranger. 

"Well, I gotta say, that was awkward. Hey, you speak Andorian, I speak Standard, you wanna come back to my place and investigate the Sapir Whorf hypothesis a little more… Intimately?"

Jim’s “date” - Christine is her name - cracks up, crappy college bar Sex on the Beach dribbling down her chin. “Holy shit! He’s gonna die a virgin at this rate!”

The Andorian man has disappeared by the time Jim looks up from Christine, and Bones is glaring at the two of them from across the bar. 

 _You asshole_. He mouths. 

"Oh my god, Bones," Jim snorts, mostly to Christine. "Look, I better go… I dunno, rescue him, rescue the rest of the bar from him, sorry. See you around."

Christine shoos him away and he makes his way through the crowd of people until he’s in grabbing distance of McCoy’s arm. 

"Come on, you fucking loser, let’s get out of here." He laughs again in Bones’ scowling face. 

"This was a terrible idea!" Leonard grumbles as they leave the bar and begin the 15 minute walk back to their dorm. "I told you I couldn’t do this. I even stopped  _you_  from bringing anyone back tonight! That’s how fucking bad I am!”

Jim cuffs his ear playfully. “Naww, don’t say that Bones. I’m bringing you back, aren’t I?”


	24. Masturbation (Explicit because porn) AOS!Bones/TOS!Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By request of an anon on tumblr.

_"Would you fuck yourself?"_  It was something Jim would say, both Jims, actually, even though their respective universes had changed them both. 

And Bones would roll his eyes in this universe whilst his older, wiser counterpart would only wink in the other. 

So the answer was yes, it turned out. This was not a surprise; he figured that it was basically like masturbation. But it was nothing like it, nothing at all; this old Bones was smooth and he spoke quietly, gently in a voice that Bones himself had been practicing for years on patients. He wasn’t confident in himself, but he knew what Bones liked, and he was so fucking polite it wasn’t even fair. He didn’t stand a chance against this older man, perhaps a decade and a half on him, a little lined, but his hair still thick and brown. 

The other Bones had looked him up and down once, a sweeping gaze from head to toe; a twitch of lips and a raised eyebrow. Leonard wondered if he looked so compassionate, so human, and his counterpart smiles softly, kindly. Hopefully. 

This other Bones was experienced and tender. Bones was used to the urgency of fucking Jim, thick cock, lube running down one thigh, sweat and slapping skin and warm breaths, biting and scratching and hard thrusting. 

But this old Bones held his head and kissed him, nuzzling like they had all the time in the world. Walked him gently backwards until his knees hit the bed, and instead of pushing him down on it, he sits beside him and pulls him into a one armed embrace, where he can kiss his neck and murmur sweet things.

The other Bones pulls back from the kiss, one hand resting lightly on his stomach through his shirt. “Is this okay?” He sounds almost concerned.

Leonard nods and allows the other man to pull his shirts up over his head. His counterpart seems to be tidier than himself; he takes the time to fold them into neat squares and place them on the floor at the foot of the bed. Bones shivers, feeling both vulnerable and safer than he ever has, and watches as the other Leonard strips out of his own uniform scrubs.

Time has replaced the muscled chest with something a little softer, a little less sculpted, but there are still things about it that are clearly his body; a small birth mark just below his right armpit; the straight brown hairs dipping below his waistline.  

He expects some admonishment from himself for staring, but this other man is not so grumpy as he and simply makes eye contact, lures him in. He falls for it hook, line and sinker, scrambling to take his boots off and step out of his pants. 

That other Leonard is naked as well, is kissing him, the corner of his mouth, his chest and neck, soft lips and no stubble. Strong, surgeon’s fingers explore his hips and slide down, smooth as that thick, southern voice, between his legs to run the palms up from his perineum to the leaking tip of his cock, rough and unhurried. 

The too-familiar stranger fingers him till he’s begging for it, clean and precise with lube and movements, stretching him carefully open and stroking, teasing over his prostate and milking the pre-ejaculate out of him like he’s doing an exam. 

"When did you last get tested?" The other him asks. 

For a second he has no idea what he’s being asked, too busy watching the pre-cum spilling over his glans for his other self to hear the words. “…Oh. Recently. Often. I won’t give you anything.”

The other McCoy nods, kissing his shoulder, and then he swipes the glistening liquid out of the slit of Bones’ cock and smears it onto his own. 

Leonard groans at the sight and spreads his legs in offering.

The offer is accepted and he can feel the head of his other’s penis resting in the hollow between his cheeks, warm and slightly firm against his opening. 

Instead of pushing in and building speed, the other Bones rocks in slowly, pushes the head just in and thrusts shallowly, working his member inside by increments. 

"Tease!" He complains, panting with the sensation. 

The other him grins. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it now.”

He shakes his head; he won’t, he loves it and he needs it, to be made love to like this. 

The other Leonard strokes his cock with a lube-sticky hand whilst he moves inside, a slow grind against his already sensitive, over stimulated prostate, rubbing the edge of his glans purposefully against it. His thumb runs a dozen lazy circles around the head of his erection, worrying the slit and playing with his frenulum, and Bones is whimpering, his hips bucking up against the other Bones, clenching as hard as he can on the welcome invasion of his dick. 

His counterpart tortures him gently, soft kisses to the lips and more slow, rubbing thrusts in time with his hand, and in contrast to his relaxation, Leonard gets wilder and more desperate. 

"Please! Please!" He pleads to no avail, his thighs trembling. He can feel his pulse through his cock, he can feel the other his pulsing member in his ass.

Just when he thinks it’s not enough, it is, and he cries out, shaking moaning, one hand on the back of the other’s neck and the other twisting the sheets hard enough to rip them as the muscles in his abdomen contract and he cums hard enough to leave pearly white semen on his older self’s stomach.

The other Bones laughs at him, not cruel, just teasing, and picks up the pace suddenly, battering his tired ass with almost-painful thrusts.

Leonard whimpers again as his dick makes a pitiful attempt to keep up, releasing one last drop of semen before beginning to soften. 

It takes only a handful of seconds for the other him to reach his climax, moaning in his ear and thrusting in deeply. 

They lie on the bed, overheating and stinking of sex, that other Bones stroking his hair and abdomen with hands that need washing.

"They say you either fuck or fight." The other Bones tells him.

He’s glad they chose the former. 

_____________________________________________________

"So, did you have yourself?" Jim asks him later as he takes a bite out of his sandwich. "I know I would’ve."

Bones rolls his eyes. “My god, Jim, do you really have such a one track mind?”


	25. Privileges (Teen/Mature - body worship) Kirk/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very mild dubcon for touching but not sex.

Leonard is a doctor, so he can do things like this.   
Have Jim recover from the anaesthesia in their quarters, not sickbay. Jim hates sickbay, is his official rationale; when Spock pushes him on it, he argues that he is a doctor, god damnit, and that it’s better if the Captain isn’t seen in such a state.   
Not that Jim is in a bad state, because if Bones thought for even a second that there was so much as a cell out of place, he’d be back in sickbay to be fixed up. 

What he likes, though, is Jim just this side of conscious, all relaxed and boneless and the energy that burns under his skin leeched away. He can take him out of his medical gown and strip off his own clothes and kiss him from head to toe. 

Every inch of freckled skin goes under Leo’s lips, fingertips, wrist, the back of his ankle; the plane of his back and the soft skin of his ear lobe; the swell of his ass (always before Jim is there enough to remember Bones  _literally_  kissing his ass).

He rolls Jim, a little more awake now but no less pliant, onto his back and begins the process anew, peppering his toes and legs with tiny little kisses and then moving up each arm instead. He especially likes his inner elbow, all smooth and vulnerable. Up to the shoulder and along the clavicle, and then up his throat, because Jim’s eyes are opening now and he’ll kiss back. 

He tastes like sickbay, like antiseptic and artificial mint overlying a taste that is definitely  _Jim_. 

Leo kisses his cheeks and his hair and his eyelids and Jim tries to speak, but it all slurs into the same unintelligible monosyllable, and Bones soothes it with another gentle kiss to the lips. 

"It’s okay sweetheart," He says between dotting Jim’s chest and ribcage. "Just another half an hour and you’ll be back to your normal, irresponsible self."

Jim laughs as Bones’ lips brush over his navel, tickled by his breaths, and groans as Leo kisses further down, over his hips, the insides of his thighs and back up along the line of his perineum, a kiss on each of those tight, perfect balls, tracing a path all the way to the tip peaking out through his foreskin. 

"Why’m’i not ‘ard?" Jim complains fuzzily. "I wanna… I wanna be…"

But it’s too late, because Bones is already kissing the corner of his mouth again. “Sorry ‘bout that, beautiful,” And Jim is, beautiful, “But it’s a side effect of the anaesthetic. He’ll bounce back up with the rest of you in a couple hours.”

Jim grumbles in complaint and nuzzles into the crook of his neck. Jim’s weight is trapping one edge of the blanket, but it just about goes over them still if they snuggle close, and they do.

"Rest up darlin’, you’ve been in the wars lately."

One last kiss, the one he almost forgot. He presses his lips to the tip of Jim’s nose and listens to the pleased noise he makes in response.

So yeah, there are certain perks to being a doctor.


	26. Irritating (all ages - comic) Kirk/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calling this a comic is really taking liberties but someone on tumblr asked if I would draw one so I did. 
> 
> I can't find my tablet, and I really couldn't be asked to draw kirk again so that he was next to Bones but I'm sure you'll all agree my solution is really neat and probably no one will notice.

[Click here to see the post.](http://startrekslash.tumblr.com/post/74505594246/can-you-draw-i-would-love-to-see-what-a-comic-made-by)


	27. Confessions (Teen - warnings inside) Spock/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't really matter whether or not the ship's surgeon /deserves/ to die; it is not something that Spock will allow to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Depression; guilt; suicide ideation; domestic abuse**(see end notes for more details)

It is universally accepted that Leonard is depressed. It is a similar fact that he does not talk about why he’s miserable, and that you’re just wasting good liquor if you try to pry it out of him. Even Jim has had to accept it. 

But everyone has to talk, even depressed, grumpy surgeons. 

In fact, being a doctor gives Bones his only release. 

When he has someone down in sickbay, a friend, not just anyone, he goes down and talks to them sometimes in their - usually drugged - sleep.

It’s only really by chance that Spock hears it. 

 

”- really blame her. Who would want someone like me? Hell, if she’d done what I did I wouldn’t have her on the same planet as my kid, either.”

Spock lies still and focuses on keeping his biobed readings constant. 

"Still, I’d’ve liked to see her start high school, you know? Of course you don’t. But she’s my kid. It’s weird, Spock. Having a child. Even when I was cryin’ my eyes out about leavin’ her, I still knew she was the best thing I ever did. Everything I accomplish for the rest of my life won’t be a patch on havin’ Joanna. Even… Even if I don’t… Get to see her. Even if she never made me any less lonely."

There’s a sniffing noise and Leonard gulps before he carries on.

"I like to think in a way that it makes up… For what I did. My Daddy got to see his only grandchild born I guess. It’s my fault he never got to see her grow. I shouldn’t kid myself, I don’t deserve to feel better about any of it. S’pose I’ll lose my job if anyone ever finds out. That’s why I don’t fight for custody." He laughs bitterly. "What kind of a father does that make me? I’d lose my licence Spock, but I wouldn’t go to jail, and I won’t even do that to see my own daughter. Pathetic. I’m pathetic. I don’t deserve her. Didn’t even deserve Jocelyn. I hit her once, Joce, when I realised what she was doing. Punched the woman I swore to love right in the jaw an’ split her lip. Then I went to beat up Clay and I chickened out, because it turns out I’m too much of a coward to confront the guy my wife’s been cheatin’ on me with, but not too much of a coward to be a wife beater."

The term makes Spock want to shudder and he suppresses it. Leonard’s voice is breaking, and he is torn between reaching out and allowing the man his privacy. His indecision effectively chooses the latter option for him.

"Patricide, domestic abuse, alcoholic, shitty father. I don’t even deserve friends. What’d I do to deserve you or Jim? I’m just gonna fuck you up, I should shove myself out an airlock where I belong." He begins to dissolve into despair; he touches Spock’s wrist for an unknown reason and grief and hatred pours in for a moment before he blocks it. "I’m such a fuckup, Spock. I’m the worst person I ever met and I’m not even crying about that. I’m crying because I’m lonely. Of course I’m fucking lonely, no one wants to be around someone like me."

There are several minutes during which Leonard only cries. He grips Spock’s wrist too tightly and then tries to rub the marks he’s created away, before he jerks up from his seat and rushes from the room. 

 

It’s unusual for Leonard to be found on the observation deck, but here he is. Spock suspects he was seeking somewhere quiet to brood alone. 

Spock comes to a rest facing out the window, a few feet away. He has a confession of his own to make. 

"It is easy to feel alone on a starship." He announces. He sees the words settle as tension in Leonard’s features reflected in the transparent aluminium. "It can be difficult to find someone to talk to, even on a ship of four hundred or more."

Usually by now there would’ve been some kind of challenge to his presence.  _What’s your point, Spock?_  It does not come. 

"Those who are of greater intelligence are most likely to feel depressed and isolated, and to shoulder blame for events that have occurred." He says, as though speaking objectively to someone outside the window. 

"I am to blame." Leonard says finally.

"Perhaps," Spock muses. "But if you believe your misery helps those you have wronged, then you are mistaken. We all carry guilt. Let it be a reminder to continue on to do better. Do not let it silence you. Or eject you from an air lock. You are not the worst person that  _I_  have ever met.”

This is the proof, then, that he had heard Leonard’s revelations. The other man finally makes eye contact with his reflection. Spock can smell the salt in the tear rolling down his cheek. 

And because he has learned, from the past two days of his own guilt, Spock reaches out as he failed to do last time, a hand resting gently on the back of Leonard’s head. The doctor exhales at the contact, a long serrated breath.

"I and the Captain will of course treat anything you say as confidential. Trust that the matter of whether or not you "deserve" us is rendered hypothetical, since we  _are_ here. I will be in my quarters when you are ready.”

It is not a request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included this because I didn't want this McCoy to be an actually good person. He isn't in here, he's fucked up and he has to own his shit.   
> Sometimes owning your shit sucks.   
> (Mentions an instance abuse with McCoy being the perpetrator and a female partner the victim)


	28. Public Displays of Amusement (all ages) Spones

"Public displays of affection are not logical." Spock says as Leonard eyes a pair of ensigns with envy poorly disguised as disgust.

"Lovin’ you ain’t logical." McCoy frowns slightly.

Sighing internally, Spock reaches out two fingers to mollify him. He won’t “make out” in a corridor, but he will do this for his mate. “Loving me is entirely logical. I am intelligent, fertile and highly attractive.”

Leonard laughs, brushing his fingers, and in spite of laughing, too, being illogical in many situations, it is pleasing for Spock to see it. “What’s you bein’ fertile got to do with it? Neither of us are gettin’ pregnant any time soon.”

It is rare that Spock should set up a joke and have it work out his way, but that is simply how he and Leonard do what is known among humans as “flirting”. He tilts his head, sharply and meaningfully. “That has not stopped you from trying,” He says, eyebrow raised, and walks away. 

It might not be logical, but making Leonard laugh is unreasonably satisfying.


	29. Emergency Care (All ages-fluff) Kirk/McCoy

Sometimes Jim will swagger into sickbay with phaser burns and a broken leg. 

Other times he scuttles in, whimpering and cradling a paper cut, and attempts to convince Bones that it’s a life threatening ailment in need of intensive care. 

"I’d tell you to treat that yourself, but it’s not even a wound that  _needs_ home care,” He scolds, but there’s no real anger behind it. “Don’t lie down! You don’t need to be on a monitor, you need to grow up and wait five minutes for the single row of damaged cells to knit together.”

"But  _Bones_ ,” Jim whines in what is sadly not  _mock_  distress. “It hurts.”

Leonard scowls and sighs; there’s nothing really to be done at times like this, when Jim needs his “Bones time”. Instead of the anabolic protoplaser, which he really can’t even justify using, he takes an old fashioned band aid out of a drawer. It’s the placebo Jim needs, not some kind of medical care.

"Give that here," He demands, and Jim offers him his index finger like he’s extending a wounded limb. Steadfastly ignoring the fact that Jim is his twenty-something more-than-a-friend and not his daughter (although, really, at eleven Joanna would regard this as an embarrassment), he cups the rest of Jim’s half-curled fingers in his and kisses the tiny, almost invisible line on the tip, pressing on the anti-bacterial plaster. "There you go, Jim. All better?"

Jim’s lip wobbles slightly, and Leonard supposes he’d best kiss that better too, only chaste, because they’re both on duty. “Hard day at the office?” He probes gently.

Jim shrugs. “Just… Stressful. Pressure. I’m tired.”

Bones strokes a hand through his hair. “I know darlin’. Just three more days till shore leave, and I’m making sure you get plenty of R and R.”

Jim nods and stands up from the biobed, ready to face the end of his shift now that Leonard has put a band aid on his anxieties. 

"Report to me in my quarters after shift ends," He tells his retreating captain. "I can check you over, see if you need further treatment. Saurian brandy should do."

Jim turns and smiles at him. “I think you cured me for now, but we wouldn’t want to risk it.”


	30. Flowers (all ages) Spock/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a response to a post with the following conditions:  
> 1) Give me a pairing.  
> 2) Give me an AU setting.  
> 3) I will write you a three-sentence fic.
> 
> The prompt was for:  
> "Spones stuck in the early 2000s having to go shopping in a superstore. (they have money)"

"You can’t buy yourself red roses Spock," Leonard grumbles when Spock stops by the flower section, "They’re meant for couples to give to each other."

"But they are here and I desire them," Spock’s lips purse almost imperceptibly, hankering after something green in their horribly urban environment.

It’s hard for McCoy to be kind in times like these, but it means a lot to Spock and he lies to himself that the Vulcan’s mental health is on the line before he says, “Fine,  _I’ll_ buy them for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Feel free to give me prompts on here or on my ST tumblr - startrekslash.tumblr.com/ask if you want a tiny drabble about something :) )


	31. Two (All ages) Kirk/Spock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another three sentence(ish) story.  
> "Spirk AU where they take their child on board the Enterprise during the five year mission."

"Do you think she okay here," Jim asks, a lump in his throat as he watches Sannek’s fingers ghost dangerously over a button on Chekov’s console which would alter their heading into the nearest star system, before drifting away, "Without any kids her own age?"

Spock blinks at the question - he has of course considered its answer in great detail, but has turned up nothing - and seeks to reassure: “It is her eleventh Earth year, and she is both logical and highly sociable; she will do well here, and if not, we shall have to relocate.”

Jim licks his lips in that way he so often does before making an announcement. “Or, you know… We could always adopt another one.” 


	32. End (All ages - apocalypse) Spock/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another 3 sentence story. Ish.   
> Prompt:   
> "Spones, PRE-apocalypse? Like the end is almost here. (Which sounds like a cool idea for a longer fic, too, actually...)"

"Even the air is sick," Bones shudders, and the tears he’s put off for too long, ever since Joanna’s funeral early on, still refuse to come, leaving his eyes gritty and tired. 

"It is…" Not interesting, "Calamitous that two billion should die in so short a space of time," Once, back when Jim was shining and golden and Spock his grounding force, the Vulcan would have admonished him for his lack of logic, and shaken off the trembling had gripping his; now, he hasn’t the heart for it.

Instead, he laces their fingers together tighter, and Bones knows what he’s about to say, for the hundredth time, and also the last; he will not fight any longer, has nothing to fight for - “Please, Leonard, we must leave, the Enterprise is waiting - you are the last hope for the preservation of your species,” Spock pleads - Leonard doesn’t feel like much of a hope.


	33. Doom (Teen - LOTR AU) McSulu; Éomer/Sulu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another three sentence story.  
> Prompt:  
> "McCoy/Sulu, Lord of the Rings."

They meet on that last battlefield, standing at the edge of destruction as the eye of Sauron goes out forever and the great mountain burns in his dying rage; the ground about them collapses, but they stand strong, a legion of elves and men.

Éomer was never meant to be a warrior, he had a healer’s heart, and snatches that dark and mysterious elf from the clutches of the earth where a great chasm has rent the world open.

The elf’s body is warm and alive and fighting in his arms, quick cool blood and sharp edges; later he fights and fucks and kisses, deceptive and soft and not at all cruel in Éomer’s bed; that was not to be their last battlefield, after all.


	34. Allergic (All ages; mild daddy kink) Kirk/McCoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If daddy kink's your thing then I wrote a whole lot more of it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1096155 )

"Hey Jim, I just noticed something weird about your paperwork." Bones confronts him in the CMO’s office with the security lock - the only one in the entire ship Jim cannot override - intentionally turned on.

"Oh yeah?" Jim shrugs nonchalantly. 

"Yeah. Well you know how in the first physical we had for the five year mission I conducted all your allergy tests and found the four things you’re allergic to?"

Jim fought to keep his face from twitching. “Sure I do.”

Bones nods, looking down at the PADD in his hands. “Sure you do. Well imagine my surprise when I looked over your records only to find that certain things have been added to that list - weird huh?”

 _Look at that bastard,_ he thinks,  _all innocence and wide eyed indignation._

"I can’t think who’d’ve done that." Jim is a poor liar. 

"Isn’t it weird that the things that’ve been added includes pretty much every green vegetable in the known galaxy?" He scowls, but he can’t resist running a thumb over that pouting lip. "I know you’re not allergic to string beans, Jim."

"I am too!" Jim predictably protests. "They make my mouth feel weird!"

"You mean you don’t  _like_  them. That’s not the same thing as an allergy, Jim. I thought your meal plan didn’t include a lot of fibre and now I don’t know why. If you honest to God had two hundred and eleven allergies, you’d be spending the rest of your life in a clean room!”

Even as he says it, he doesn’t like the thought, jostling Jim lightly with a hand on each arm. 

"I will eat broccoli," Jim concedes, repeating an ultimatum Joanna had once laid down at the age of six. 

Leonard strokes his lips lightly with the tips of his fingers. “And peas. I can’t believe I’m bargaining with a fleet Captain to eat his god damn vegetables!”

"What if I get allergic and die?" Jim looks at him in mock fear.

Bones rolls his eyes. “That’s not gonna happen baby. Daddy would never let you die under his watch.” He kisses Jim, noisily but chastely and then pulls back. “But you gotta eat your greens.”

Jim whines, but it’s too late; he was eating salad with every meal from the moment Bones pulled the Daddy card.


	35. Watching (explicit - porn) Kirk/Spock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They do the sex.

Jim falls apart on Spock’s cock whilst the Vulcan looks weirdly back up at him. 

It’s not that he looks bored or detached, Spock gazes at Jim’s face and body and his bouncing dick as though he’s come upon a sight that interests him at the termination of a long run. 

It’s scrutiny of a whole different order. 

It used to unnerve him, this voyeurism-that-isn’t, but now Jim just looks back down at the slightly furrowed brow and the just-parted, panting, wet lips. Desire in the face of restraint. 

He tries to imagine what Spock sees, that serene expression taking in the sight of Jim’s hole stretching around his cock, shining with lube and lick and red from too many fingers. He knows Spock looks, knows he likes it, reaches down to knead his balls and pull them out the way. 

Spock’s quiet and Jim is loud, begging, talking, shouting moaning. Spock makes observations. The human prostate is interesting. Jim’s love of having his nipples played with is “fascinating” - also “redundant”, a comment Jim ignores in favour of an orgasm.

They’re a juxtaposition; Jim fucks or makes love with the same, burning passion, until Spock underneath or on top of him, on or inside of him writhes, once and slowly, with a soft, sighing moan as bitter-sweet Vulcan semen shoots from the tip of that green-brown-pink dick, as his cock pulses and his balls tighten and he lazily, logically, almost tranquilly reaches his climax. 

Jim fucks dirty and hot, with teeth and nails and a need for Spock to be so close that even inside is not close enough, and Spock, Spock is always impossibly close, gentle fingers stroking the soft skin of his face. 

"I love you," Spock proclaims one day, confident, relaxed, with two fingers stuffed next to his cock in Jim’s ass, the others splayed across his face. 

Jim can only moan, but it doesn’t matter. Spock can hear him. 

"Fascinating."


	36. Disorderly Conduct (teen) slight Spock/Pike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr:  
> when Spock first comes to earth he accidentally breaks the law and gets really defensive about it
> 
> http://startrekslash.tumblr.com/post/76034103373/prompt-when-spock-first-comes-to-earth-he-accidentally

Pike sighs. “You’re not going to like this,” He tells the recently graduated Lieutenant, “But I’ve had to enrol you in the “Human Cultural Norms and Customs” class for next semester.”

Spock looks at him, mouth open, appalled but unwilling to voice the fact. “I do not intend to assimilate into Western human society.” The words are edgy, hinting that Pike treads in dangerous water. 

"I know, I know," Chris waves the comment aside. "Don’t look at it as assimilation. Look at it as a deal I had to make with the Houstan P. D. to get your  _Disorderly Conduct_ charges dropped.”

"I was not disordely," Spock counters again, willing to launch himself back into the argument he’d been having when Pike picked him up from the station. "My behaviour was logical."

"Your behaviour was against the law." Pike doesn’t mince words. 

"There are no laws proscribing attire." Spock is pouting slightly. It’s endearing, to see him defensive, amusing. In a few years time, Leonard McCoy M.D. will pick up this role from Pike, but this part he wouldn’t miss for a million credits. "There are many who remove clothing in times of warm weather, including in the bay area."

"If you’re saying that it’s legal to be naked, then yeah, it is,  _in San Francisco_.” Pike points at him, and Spock follows the line of his finger as though he’s indicating some stain over his chest. “You weren’t in San Fran. You can’t go wondering about with your trouser snake bouncing around in Texas!”

Spock looks at him like he’s made no sense, but instead of ripping at the idiom, he persists in defending himself. “That is not logical. It was 310 Kelvin, warm enough to negate the need for a dress uniform even by Vulcan standards.”

It takes everything for Chris not to laugh, but somehow he manages it, clearing his throat awkwardly. “If I’m honest, Spock, it’s probably less that you took your clothes off at the conference, and more that you refused to put them back on.”

Spock’s expression is as blank as ever, but somehow still severe enough to make a child cry. Or a Houstan Xenobiological Pheromones conference security guard call the police. 

"I’m sorry, Spock. You’ll just have to attend the class."

"Very well." Spock says, rising abruptly. "I will take my leave now."

Pike supposes this is the Vulcan equivalent of storming off.


	37. Infuriating (all ages) Spock, McCoy, Joanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because horrid child on bus and equally annoying father.

_Personality is a heritable trait._

"You’re a poopoo head!" Joanna points and shouts for the eleventh time in as many minutes. 

He father taps the back of her head so lightly that neither she nor any spectators can tell if it’s praise or a warning.

Regardless, it goes ignored. Joanna bounds over and presses a button on the science station chair that causes Spock to drop seventeen centimetres from his preferred elevation. She leans in close to his ear, so close he can feel her breath. “Poopy head,” She stage whispers, and then tugs on his ear. 

Regardless of the pain, he refuses to indulge her with a reaction, waiting for her to cease before turning to McCoy who is trying to look apologetic, but instead looks extremely pleased with himself. “Jo! Let go!”

"Fascinating," Spock tells him, forcing his hands to remain on his work station in front of him, rather than committing an assault on a six year old. "Your progeny is as profoundly irritating as her father."

And of course the doctor cannot resist. “Irritating, Spock? Isn’t that an emotion?”

Spock suppresses a smile that he believes would have been cruel in nature. “Indeed. But I, and I can only presume, everyone else you come into contact with on a daily basis, have found that it is the only logical way to describe your personality.” He wants to stand up and storm off, but he knows that to the rest of the bridge crew, this is the line between “logical banter” and “an argument”, so he refrains. “Unless of course they are less restrained than myself, in which case they must find you both infuriating and puerile.”

McCoy grins at him, and Spock believes that infuriation is indeed the purpose. “Thanks for the analysis. Poo bum head.”

Spock twitches. He can feel people watching, see the glee in McCoy’s eyes and the amusement on Jim’s face where he watches in silence from the Captain’s chair. He resolves that two can engage in such activities. “Captain,” He looks pointedly over at Jim. “Doctor McCoy is being immature and rude. As it is quite late relative to his shift hours, and I believe tiredness may have a part to play in his behaviour. Request you confine him to quarters for an early night.”

Jim sticks his thumb up in the direction of the lift. “G’night, Bones.”

Leonard looks appalled. “You asshole!” He says, loud enough for the bridge and Joanna to hear. 

Spock permits him a raised eyebrow, and a hint of a smirk. He believes he may just have declared a war, but nonetheless, he is pleased with himself.


	38. Brick (all ages - Valentine's) Spock/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock buys Bones some bricks.

Spock buys logical, utilitarian valentine’s gifts. 

 

"Uh, thanks, Spock." Jim stared at the disinfectant for a little too long, his expression an unsubtle balance of disappointment and amusement. "It’ll come in handy… Cleaning… Cleaning things…"

 

"Oh, Spock, you shouldn’t have…" Uhura’s voice was somewhat strained as she took the portable dynamo from his hand. She cleared her throat. "Ahem, thanks. Thanks, Spock. If I ever need a little more… Electricity, this’ll come into its own…"

 

At least, in retrospect, Leonard did not attempt what Spock had come to know was simply another form of lying.

"What the hell am I s’posed to do with one brick?" He demands, gesturing wildly at it, Spock, and the general surroundings. 

"Very little, which is why I have purchased you eighteen thousand of them." He waits. For once in his life, McCoy looks… Stunned. "This is merely a sample."

He allows himself to smile internally at the doctor’s bemusement, not quite able to decide if Spock is having him on. His voice is a little tight when he speaks. “Where… Have you managed to put eighteen thousand bricks?”

"It is a pre-existing assemblage approximately one kilometre from Stone Mountain," He continues as Leonard swallows wetly. "Sufficiently close to your daughter’s place of education that you might make use of it for maintaining that relationship whilst the Enterprise is being refitted."

McCoy’s chest shudders convulsively for a moment. Spock wonders if he has misjudged the boundaries of their relationship. 

"Wh- I… Spock…" The human stammers. 

In a horrifying turn of events it looks as though his lover of two years might be about to cry. In a moment of panic, Spock looks around for a way to remedy the situation, but finds none. 

Leonard sniffs. “You’ll be there too, right? When you’re not teaching?” He says at last. 

Spock interprets this as acquiescence. “Naturally.”

McCoy grabs his fingers, awkwardly and slightly too tightly to be mistaken for a kiss, but Spock will interpret it as he likes. “Spock, thank you. How… I can’t ever thank you for this.”

"Illogical. I believe this to be "back pay" on two point two years of sexual favours and medical expertise."

"Back pay? I sure must’ve been working hard!" Leonard scoffs. But he can’t hide that he’s grinning.

"The rest you may make up for at the conclusion of your shift." He disentangles his fingers, stroking them opportunistically as he does so, and goes on his way. Christine’s radiation shielding screen will not deliver itself.


	39. Gift (teen - Valentine's) Kirk/McCoy

"What should I get Bones for Valentine’s?" Jim wonders, licking a stray rivulet of coffee running over the back of his hand. 

Uhura shrugs. “Len doesn’t  _do_  Valentine’s, why bother?”

Jim meets her gaze. “He’ll do it for me.”

She snorts. “You sure about that?”

Jim looks at her, deadly serious. “Of course he will. Nyota, that guy’ll eat whipped cream out my asshole, he’s not gonna back out over a bunch of flowers and a new shirt.”

She chokes, spraying him with hot chocolate. “Definitely a wedding ring.”


	40. Brassica (teen - comic) Spock/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like you should be warned in advance this is a special kind of awful and I don't even really know what the fuck I was thinking when I made it, it was a request from someone who clearly didn't know what they were asking on tumblr a couple of months ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry.  
> Also I don't know why I made Spock a snake.


	41. Obvious (All ages- fluff, mild angst) Kirk/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's weird, how something can be so obvious, but them be so oblivious to it. Or maybe it isn't.

When Leonard looks at it properly, it’s obvious that they’ve been lovers, or something like it, for years. Maybe not in the first year or so at the Academy, but certainly by the last, and through their early missions and through Jim’s death and revival and the first four years of the five year mission. 

They watch holos with Jim’s arm around his shoulders and he’s pretty sure Jim’s stopped seeing other people, with the exception of the odd one night stand. Bones hasn’t dated since Jocelyn, unless he counts sitting in a dive bar with Jim, or picking up another take out for them to eat at home, or the days they hung out in the bay.  He’s starting to think that he should.

Even on the five year mission, if it was just a decent drink once or twice a week; or Jim’s tendency to  _already be_  in Leonard’s quarters when he got back from a shift, food on the table if he’d had a surgery or Jim had had a rough day.

He’s starting to look closer at the way that they start off watching a movie sitting on Jim’s bed, and then both wake up eight hours later in the same position, or how, once, he’d woken up with the blankets pulled over them both. 

He’s wondering why it doesn’t seem odd to run a thumb over Jim’s split lip to inspect it, or for neither of them to bother moving their hands apart after Jim’s usual alpha display which occasionally turned out to involve arm wrestling. 

And are they really just huddling for warmth under the safety blanket on those away missions? Or are they huddling for something else?

He wonders if just-friends give back massages or if they run each other baths or lay each other’s clothes out. 

It would all be fine, and he’s happy with his friendship with Jim, except that once he’s thought about it, he can’t get his mind off it. What would it be like if instead of slapping his back, Jim had just hugged him? Held him? Kissed him? What would it be like to kiss Jim? Is it okay, is it allowed?

He doesn’t know, and for eight years he’s been fine  _without_  knowing, but that’s no longer the case. He worries himself for months over it, ranging from his usual minor fretting to his equally common major anxiety. Jim can tell something’s up; Bones knows, from over-analysing every touch, that three months ago, Jim would not have have felt the need to rub his back whilst he was standing on the observation deck, thinking about it. 

So he begins to push his luck. Just a little at a time. When they watch a holo and Jim puts an arm across his shoulder, Bones puts his around Jim’s waist. He turns his thermostat down a few degrees before Jim comes over to his the next time, and uses the excuse to put the blanket over their legs. 

He makes up reasons to touch him.  _Let me have a look at that hand, Jim._ It’s fine, Bones.  Spends more and more time in Jim’s quarters under the pretence that Jim works too hard.

It’s not subtle, but they were already so obvious, what could he do? Subtle would be a step back, not forwards.

Jim doesn’t mention the changes, just lets them happen as though it’s always been that way. Rubs his back unprompted, clumsily working on the knots in his spine. 

It’s perfect, but it’s still not enough. Kissing is the line that Leonard’s bravery cannot cross. He spends far too much time focussing on Jim’s lips, on trying to judge whether it would seem weird if he just pecked the top of Jim’s head right now. 

He knows Jim isn’t stupid, but somehow the image in his head is of Jim recoiling in horror, one step too far. He knows he’s completely transparent and he wonders why Jim hasn’t taken the initiative already if it’s something he wants to do.

It’s so petty, but it becomes an obsession. He spends hours thinking about it, and in his head it morphs from a minor change in his relationship with Jim to the loss of his best friend, to massive rows and a transfer off ship, to rejection and disgust and shame. 

It begins to gnaw at him, catching him off guard at moments when he hadn’t meant to think about it at all. 

And because Jim  _is_  a good friend, he doesn’t miss it.

"Bones, what’s up? You’ve been a little… Distracted, lately." Jim breaks through his reverie again. They’re in McCoy’s quarters, where he can’t even run away.

He wants to deny it, but he also wants to come out with everything and have Jim sweep him up in his arms and make it all okay. Instead of doing the sensible thing and claiming he was just worn out, he grunts and shrugs. And it’s guaranteed to draw another round of questioning. 

"Seriously," Jim places a hand on his shoulder, rubbing absently with his thumb. "What’s wrong?"

Leonard’s chest constricts. He’s put himself in this position, set himself up subconsciously. He opens his mouth, but he has no idea what to say, and an odd noise comes out of it instead. 

"Come on Bones," Jim’s hand is warm. "I’m not going anywhere till you tell me, so you might as well come out with it. I won’t judge, you know that."

And there it is, the missing piece of the puzzle. The realisation that Jim has known all along, and just been waiting for  _him_  to catch up clicks into place. 

The idea of kissing him is all too much, so Bones leans into him heavily, head thunking against Jim’s shoulder.

"You’re an asshole," He gripes, as though his feelings are all Jim’s fault. Which they definitely are. 

"Yeah, but you still love me," Jim wraps his arms about him and gives him a squeeze, just ambiguous enough to be able to back out now if he has to.

"Don’t I know it, kid." 

One day, they’ll shake off the ambiguity altogether, and then they can make sure everyone knows it.


	42. Asshole  (Teen) - Kirk/McCoy

It used to offend Jim when Bones called him an asshole. Well, upset, really. It wasn’t so much that Bones was venomous about it, because Bones is venomous about everything. It was more that it tapped into a certain deep anxiety in Jim; the fear of letting people down.

He hears it a thousand times in the academy, cringing every one, and a thousand times more the second they reach space. It starts to lose its affect though, when they become lovers. 

Jim isn’t sure why; shouldn’t it matter even more?

 

"I’m going on the away team." He tells Bones as he steps into his uniform pants, like he does every time. 

Bones has gotten over the constant need to stop him or compulsively check him; he’s a practical man at heart even if he is a pessimist. This has not stopped him from voicing his displeasure. “Don’t be such an asshole, Jim, let someone else have a turn. You ought to share the right to do something ridiculously stupid.”

Jim brushes off the admonishment entirely. “You’ve kissed my asshole, Bones, you know I’m not about to change.”

"Well now, if you’re gonna keep bringin’ that up I’mma have to stop doin’ it…."

"Naww Bones," He taps his partner’s cheek patronisingly. "You couldn’t give up eating ass if you tried."

It’s not often Jim wins an argument between them, but he seems to have this one down. “See?” He says, adjusting a boot before pecking Bones on the mouth. “It’ll be fine. Love you later.”

The word asshole follows him out of the room.


	43. AFEWORD (Mature - Spanking) Kirk/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severe; consensual; aftercare.

"Aww, I’m sorry sweetheart," Jim lied as he stroked the right cheek with the back of his hand. The skin was hot and uneven, welted and beginning  to bruise in purple splotches over the even, red burn that Jim had set about kindling half an hour ago. "But you know, Bones, if you behave like that, you have to take what’s coming to you. I know you’ll behave better next time, since neither of us want a repeat of this."

Leonard noded meekly, despite being trapped with his waist in the vice-like grip of Jim’s knees, ass tugged up with all the blood not filling it going straight to his head, and being decently sure that Jim couldn’t see him. His left hand shook to support him and the back of the right was crusted and sticky with snot and tears. 

The swish and smack of the hairbrush on top of fresh welts was hard enough to send a shock up his spine and a huff of air from his chest. “Jim!”

Jim smoothed the cool back of the brush over the new mark. “Bones, we speak when we’re spoken to. We don’t want a repeat of this.”

"No, we don’t." He sniffed, trying to shift from the uncomfortable position. 

"Good boy," He could hear the appreciation in Jim’s voice, but he was no longer innocent enough to imagine that that meant he was finished. "Now Bones," Jim sounded far too happy as he released him. "Up against the wall."

Leonard fell to the floor in a tangle of reluctant limbs. 

"Up!" Jim repeated, slapping stinging flesh repeatedly as Bones pried himself from the floor. 

He kept up the volley of spanks with one hand as he arranged Leonard into position with the other, placing both of the nail-gouged palms out onto the cool plaster as Bones tried not to dance. 

Jim uncapped the lotion, a ritual Bones was well accustomed to by now, spreading it on generously to make the contact with whatever implement would come next more painful, rubbing it in to press on all the places that burned and ached.

Leonard stared at the white of the wall as Jim rummaged through a drawer, and kept his gaze on where his fingers left sweating prints on it when Jim ran slow, lazy hands over his belly and back, kissing his neck. “You’re doing really well, halfway there. Twenty seven more and we can forget this ever happened and all will be forgiven.”

Leonard doubted it, on all but the last point. Now was a bad time to say, though, as he felt the inch thick, stiff leather of the tawse brushing up the inside of his thigh. “Thank you.”

"Hands on the wall, feet on the ground. Don’t turn around." The usual rules.

The tawse hit with a heavy  _thwak!_  and lit a double-tongued line of fire across both cheeks. He let out a grunt that was more of a wail, fingernails scraping up plaster dust. Jim let him rest a moment and his body shook as he fought to stop himself turning around, putting his feet up or his fingers back to stop the next blow. 

Jim waited through the shuddering, a hand resting comfortingly, patronisingly in the small of his back. 

The second and the third stroke hurt just as badly, but the shock was less. 

"Na-ah," Jim told him, shifting out a locked elbow from its position welded straight and setting Leonard shaking again. "Relax."

"I can’t," He moaned. 

"Yes you can," Jim told him, aiming up with several taps that hurt too much to be taps. "Twenty four more and you’re finished, Bones."

Tears stung his eyes; pain, despair, humiliation. He shook his head.

The strap cut over the tops of both thighs and Leonard turned around quickly, pressing bruised cheeks against the cold of the wall. 

Jim scowled at him, arm halting mid second swing. “I said don’t turn around!” He growled, forcing him back into position, this time pressed right up against the wall so close his cheek hit the paper taped among the posters and letter and medical certificates. 

 _Your safeword is SAFEWORD,_ it told him.  _If you cannot say safeword, raise the first three fingers on your right hand._

The tawse hit three times in quick succession, and Leonard scrabbled backwards with his hands, inarticulate noises bursting from his throat as his chest heaved. 

"Only twenty left," Jim said, gentler, pinning both hands into the small of his own back. 

He nodded absently, endorphins flooding his system as pain flooded his ass. 

"That’s nineteen Bones, can you count back down for me?" Jim asked, insistent and annoying. Bones didn’t want to count. 

"Nineteen," He said thickly. The second the last syllable passed his lips, the next blow rocked his flagging cock hard against the wall. 

He took a rattling breath, thighs twitching against his will, ass in the purest form of agony he’d felt in a very, very long time. If he skipped a number right now, Jim would let it slide; he could say one if he wanted to and Jim would make it the last smack. “Eight… Eighteen.”

The strap thudded into flesh again, his flesh. It hurt. He didn’t count. 

"Hey Bones," Jim was in his ear again. "You flying?"

He nodded, or he thought he did. It didn’t matter. Jim kissed the back of his neck again; Leonard could feel his lips slipping in sweat. 

"I need you to answer me if you want to carry on, Bones. If you can’t tell me you want to carry on we have to stop."

Talking took a lot of effort, and he wasn’t completely sure he wanted to say anything at all.  _Beat me._  He thought. ”Can I… Can I… Have some water?” He said.

Jim released him from the wall, pulling him back towards the couch. He stumbled and was deposited on a sofa cushion with a hiss and a groan that he hoped he was making. 

The glass appeared, condensation pressing against bitten lips, and he gulped down as much as he could until he choked. 

"Easy, sweetheart," Jim pulled it away, slapping his back in a way that reminded him of the way his ass was tingling. "Slow down."

"It’s salty," He spluttered, turning his cheek away from the proffered drink. 

"Yeah, not my decision," Jim told him, rubbing his back. "Gotta play safe,  _Doctor McCoy_.”

The use of his title seemed to snap him back to reality with a bump. His head was pounding and his ass burned and ached and the skin felt hot and tight and his eyes were gritty and his throat raw. He felt dizzy, lightheaded and oddly displaced, as though he’d taken a lot of weed and his blood sugar was low.

He choked again and slumped heavily against Jim’s shoulders, exhausted. “I-I-I don’t feel- I don’t-” He tried to articulate his distress, but Jim hushed him.

"It’s alright, it’s okay." Jim pressed his hair back from his feverish forehead, putting the isotonic drink back to his chin. It tasted disgusting, no wonder his patients never drank them when he told them to. His throat burned when he swallowed it down, and the linen of the couch felt rough and cruel against his skin. "You have the word "AFEWORD" printed backward on your cheek."

"I’m hungry," He replied petulantly, rubbing weakly as his face. His arm brushed away salt crystals from tear tracks that hurt his skin. "And too hot."

"I know," Jim kissed his brow. "There’s cake or pizza or fruit, icecream, chocolate, beer, bread, anything you want."

"Fruit," Leonard told him, wiping snot onto the back of his arm despite being within reaching distance of a box of tissues. Jim handed it to him and then settled him into the cushions and went through to the kitchen. He could hear strawberries being wrestled out of their plastic box and washed. "Also chocolate. And cake, and the pizza. Are there any chips?"

Jim laughed.

"How’d I know you’d go back on the healthy option?" He asked as he brought back a tray of pizza and pringles and an assortment of sugary snacks, strawberries rendered ornamental on the side. 

"Everything’s fine in moderation," Leonard grouched, feeling more himself at the sight of food. He dumped a handful of pringles onto a slice of pizza and sandwiched them beneath another piece. 

Jim shook his head as he crunched through his makeshift sandwich. “I can’t believe you’re actually gonna eat that.”

"Gotta get my sugar levels up," Although he definitely felt less teary. "My ass hurts, I’m allowed to eat what I want."

"Okay," Jim smirked, licking the salt off the back of a pringle. "But next time I use that excuse, you’re not allowed to go all doctor on me."

"You love it when I go all doctor on you," He winked. Then he flicked the chip out of Jim’s hand. "And don’t play with your food!"

Jim picked his damp chip off the floor and put it in his mouth without a second thought. “Or what Bones? You gonna spank me?”

Maybe.


	44. Knock (Explicit- non-con voyeurism) Kirk/Spock

Kirk never knocks, or buzzes or whatever it is they have on the doors. He wouldn’t know, he doesn’t use it. 

It doesn’t matter, because all Spock ever does is sit at his desk and work, or sit on the floor an meditate. Jim’s never walked in on him doing anything else. 

Except today. 

He walks straight in to Spock’s quarters unannounced, because hey, he gets announced plenty on the bridge, only to encounter the peculiar happen-stance that the living area is empty. No matter, Jim can wait. 

Except it’s not as quiet in here as he’d first thought when he’d escaped the bustle of the ships corridors. There’s breathing and a slick, wet noise, an almost-suckling sound. 

When he walks to the grill screen that separates the living area from the bedroom, he has no specific image in mind for the cause. Presumably something logical that he can’t remember because he has a one track mind - something it would take a Vulcan to assume was happening. 

Except what’s happening isn’t very logical or Vulcan at all.

Jim freezes. He should leave. He should say something. He should watch sneakily from behind the grating and then run away before he can be discovered. No, not that last one… Well… Who could blame a guy? The answer was Spock and Starfleet Command and most everybody he knows, actually, but that doesn’t seem to be enough to make him go. 

Spock is lying on his back on the bed in his black undershirt, naked below the waist, legs spread wide as long, slick fingers slide in and out of his stretched, greenish hole. He sucks noisily on the first two fingers of his other hand, tongue sliding between them, leaving none free to touch the thick, dripping length that presses up against his belly, or to squeeze the tight, quivering balls. 

Which is really a shame. 

Spock doesn’t seem to need the extra stimulation, four fingers stuffed in, pulling at his own rim and moving in a way that would suggest that the real party is going on inside.

Jim’s own dick is hard within the thirty seconds he’s been watching. He shouldn’t touch, he’ll only get caught. But that’s part of the fun, a voice in the back of his head argues. 

He tries to compromise, as though being caught with a hand in his pants with an obvious erection is less incriminating than Spock seeing him sprawled on the table. 

Sprawled like Spock is. 

Spock’s cheeks hollow as he sucks hard on the fingers, whilst those of his other hand thrust in and all the way out, breaching his opening again and plunging deep each time. His bent legs shake and his breathing is ragged through his nose. 

 _This is a terrible idea_ , Jim thinks as he spits on his own fingers.  _But it looks so good_ …

He jams his hand down the back of his pants and shoves both fingers inside himself before they dry out too much. Spit isn’t lube, and it burns and hurts, but he’s already too turned on to care. The angle is awkward and he’s not used to the penetration, but he scissors anyway, and pushes the fingers in as far as they’ll go, thumbing over the tip of his dick to distract himself. 

Spock releases his fingers from his mouth, a thin trail of saliva threading between them and his lips before he brings them down and slips them in beside the others. 

With his mouth freed, Spock is louder, whimpering and moaning at the stretch. His hole looks full to bursting, a green-white ring clutching at too many fingers. 

Jim’s cock leaks at the sight; he must be so loose and wet and ready, perfect to take it. Hot walls clinging to him, velvety smooth, prepared just for him, clenching and tight.

Kirk reaches as far as he can, bearing down on his own hand until the very tips just about brush his prostate. He leans his forehead against the mesh, eyes on Spock’s hands, following their movements. 

He glances up at Spock’s face and gasps in shock, shooting his come up his own wrist as their eyes meet, Spock’s brow raised in an indifferent expression of surprise.

"Fascinating."


	45. Anthropocentric (all ages) Spock/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The full title of this ficlet is An Anthropocentric Definition of Love, but that wouldn't've let people see the age rating or pairing in the drop down thingy so it had to go.

"Do you love me, Spock?" Leonard asks out of the blue. Their relationship is not clearly defined and there’s no reason why he should. But he’s come to the disturbing conclusion that  _he_  does love Spock, and for some reason it matters whether the same is true the other way around. They are sitting on Leonard’s bed, dressed and not quite touching.

Spock doesn’t even blink. He does not seem surprised or outraged at the question, as though he’s been expecting it. He puts his PADD down. “You would be mistaken to apply human concepts of emotion to me.”

He doesn’t know if that’s a yes or a no or a sort-of, so he doesn’t respond, just watches, trying to communicate that he needs further clarification. 

Spock’s information-seeking eyes regard him for a moment, but he doesn’t rise to the bait, or maybe hasn’t noticed it.

"Then what’s the Vulcan equivalent?" He asks, when it becomes clear that Spock doesn’t mean to continue. He tries to sound nonchalant, as though nothing hinges on the answer being that yes, there is a Vulcan equivalent, but his voice rises without his permission and Spock is too alert not to pick it up. 

"It is not an equivalent, as you would recognise one," Spock tells him, softly but not delicately, as though Leonard is a curious child and not an emotionally invested adult. "It is more of a categorisation, as with other emotions."

"I don’t know what that means," Leonard says, as flatly as he can, trying to sound rational as though it might make up for Spock’s least favourite subject matter. "I know you feel."

"Incorrect." Spock’s face is blank, and it’s infuriating, but McCoy can’t afford to tantrum over it. "I do not "feel" anything; I acknowledge the emotion as it begins to arise as a chemical signal in my brain; I identify the cause of the emotion and why it might be occurring, and then I stop the release of the chemicals causing it. I do not feel my emotions. I simply gather the information I can from them and then remove them."

A rehearsed speech if ever there was one. “Okay.”

Spock looks as though he might be trying to escape the conversation and go back to his report. “Wait, what does that mean? What  _would_  you feel about me if you didn’t get rid of the emotions?”

Spock sighs lightly, or Leonard might be projecting that onto him. “A range of emotions, primarily _irritation_ , which I suppose a human might experience and group collectively as love.”

McCoy stays sitting on the bed, letting his thoughts bounce around his head. If Spock didn’t experience all those emotions at once, could he really call them love? Did a bit of sensation ever creep in before he sent it for analysis and shut it down? Could Spock ever really feel for him? “I’m just gonna interpret that as, “yeah, but I’m too goddamn Vulcan to say so.”“

"Irritation," Spock confirms. "How you interpret it is none of my concern."

"Nah," Leonard brushes the severity off. "You wouldn’t let me go around believin’ it if it wasn’t at least mostly true."

Spock picked up his PADD and reopened the document in a very illustrative manner, as he so often did when he intended to close a conversation. “No, perhaps I would not.”


	46. Date (all ages) Spock/McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and McCoy go on a date.  
> All goes as intended.

"You can’t eat pizza with a fork you barbarian!"

"I do not understand this human insistence on topping fermented wheat disks with the coagulated mammary fluid of the water buffalo."

"Are you seriously goin’ to only drink tap water at a high end restaurant?"

"You will desist from touching my hands until yours have been thoroughly expunged of grease."

"You gettin’ dessert or are you jus’ gonna watch me get drunk by myself, with your pointed devil’s ears?"

"I will have the fruit platter."

"Jesus wept."

"I shall endeavour to respect your recent conversion to Christianity, however, I do not believe your deity is actually—"

"Spock! Bones! Fancy seeing you here! This is an expensive place to have an argument, you know."

"Piss off, Jim. We’re gettin’ along just fine!"

"We will not purchase Italian food again. Next time we will go to an establishment which places less emphasis on cheese."

"Well. See you guys around."

"Jim, I swear to God if you take the table next to us, we’re leaving."

   .

"Don’t I get a goodnight kiss?"

"…You may touch my hand."

"Whoa, don’t wanna get carried away in public there! Leave it for the bedroom!"

"In that case you may not touch my hand."

"Well now hang - Spock! - Hang on a minute! I didn’t say I didn’t  _want_  to!”

_Hmph._


End file.
